Rebels of Wirewood
by Folly of Devils
Summary: This is my first MTG fic. It stars an old elf struggling to fight the powers of a corrupt government. Please Read and Review. There will probably be more chapters later.
1. The Rebel

NOTE: _This is the first chapter re-written. It is, in my opinion, much better than my first attempt. Thank you so much for reading it. I would ask that you would also review. . Thank you so much, again! A little setting information. This is an alternate universe where the various "sets" are different universes. The current conflict involves the breach of Mirrodin into Wirewood. Have fun._

**The Rebel**

The sun was just beginning to set just below the tree tops of the large town of Coronat. The huge tree that made up the Senate house. The hallways echoed with the sounds of soft-booted feet hitting the marbled floor. The old sorcerer, Vanadoros Eratool paced outside the Great Commune. He sighed and bowed his heads praying to the gods of magic. The page walked through the doors and cleared his throat.

"Servant Vanadoros'Et Eratool. You are being summoned into the Great Commune. You are charged on the grounds of treason and conspiracy to overthrow the established governing body." The page turned around and with an air of supremacy said over his shoulder. "Follow me."

Vanadoros trekked slowly behind the page. The elder elf mostly just stared at the ground, but he would occasionally look up to make sure he was not going to ram into anything and stare at the portraits on the tangled walls. Everyone was rather boring. The solemn faces stared back at him with a look of disdain. It took a few seconds to realize that the face he was staring at was his own. He never realized how terribly tyrannical he seemed. Vanadoros let his eyes fall again just in time to stumble into in the page leading him to the Great Commune.

"Thank you, Servant Porcio," Vanadoros muttered as he moved across the threshold. The young page turned around sharply and turned up his nose. The younger elf turned around and closed the door behind Vanadoros. Vanadoros could then hear Porcio and the other guard snickering lightly.

"The old fool does not even know what's going to happen." Vanadoros could hear one of them say as the sound of their soft-soled boots soon echoed about the hallways. The elder turned around and with a frown calmly walked into the Great Commune. It was his boots this time that were source of a cacophony of echoes. As he entered into the hemisphere that was the Audience, he could see a single beam of light shining upon the Alter of the Sun. The shaded figures in the background, the company of Senators, were still. A single figure stepped into the light. The Praetor of Coronat was the most respected member of the Senate. He raised his hands to quiet down the imaginary voices of the Senators and began to speak.

"Servant Vanadoros'Et Eratool. You have been summoned before the members of the Council to face charges of insanity and treason. How do you plead, brother?" The Praetor suited with his soliloquy, backed off into the darkness again. The Senators, before Vanadoros had ever announced his plea, began discussing amongst themselves. Vanadoros stepped into the circle of lights and looked around at the Senators, most of which he had been present at the birth of themselves, their children, and their grandchildren. The Praetor turned around and walked calmly to his seat amongst the other Council members. He frowned and bowed his head for a second.

"I plead guilty, members of the Council." He began, but the rest of his sentence was temporarily cut short by the uproar of voices. He raised one hand. "Quiet! I plead guilty, but it was necessary!" The crowd silenced and Vanadoros was able to continue.

"I could not allow the hunting party to be taken by the myr. Their fate would have been even worse than what I offered them." He looked pale. The ashen-faced elder was leaning against the lectern as he spoke. He raised his head to the Council. "I know all of you well. I have taught some of you, but I want to say that I would do the same thing if any of you were in the same position."

The Council once more began talking loudly amongst themselves. The Praetor, after a few minutes of letting every member in the Council converse fully, stepped back to his position in the center of the room. He cleared his throat and waited calmly for the rest of the Council to quiet down. He held up a hand and began to speak in his raspy tones, once more once his hand dropped.

"Members of the Council, who among you can say that you would not sacrifice your own life to save that of your countrymen. That is not the question here. The idea that the myr were once more sited upon the hallowed lands of Wirewood is preposterous. Our ancestors many millennia ago destroyed all the metal fiends and their creators. If indeed the myr were once again roaming the forests and destroying everything dear to us, then this brother's efforts were well planned. It is up to you, Council, to decide if the myr once again crawl through the forests. All in favor of convicting the brother, Vanadoros Et'Eratool, on the charge of traitorous acts of violence against the state of Coronat?" The Praetor let his last few words ring out. It took a few minutes before the replies began to sound one-by-one.

"_Uif_," was the reply by each and every Senator. Vanadoros looked down at his feet and frowned. The Praetor gave a bit of a smirk and looked around at the Senators. He held up his hand once more to silence the crowd and began the customary guilty speech.

"The first act of the Council is to strip Eratool of all titles and positions he currently holds. The next act is to decide his punishment. I suggest death... by draining. A little dip in the necrogen swamps should cure him of all delusions."

"No! I tried to reason with the Council. I tried to reason with all of you, but you have now brought it all upon yourselves. The myr are here and they will destroy everything we know and love. And I fear you are all already under the spell of the tyrant that leads them. I'll be damned if you're going to bring me to the necrogen swamps." The elder elf slammed his hands down on the lectern and then reached deep into the folds of his robe. He pulled out an orb of glowing green light. It began to hum at a very low pitch but as he hopped onto the floor and moved closer to the Altar of the Sun, the hum was higher pitched and the lights began to swirl faster. By the time he was practically on top of the altar the orb flashed and all of the Senators were momentarily blinded. When they could all see again, Vanadoros Eratool had disappeared and the Altar of the Sun was in ruins.

"Find him! The necrogen swamps would have been a blessing compared to the pain he will receive from me!" The Praetor screamed. The guards within the Great Commune rushed out and into a grand fog that had suddenly covered the entire city. The guards fought through the fog for a few a feet but their efforts were futile. They soon returned to the Commune to report.

"The Rebel as escaped in the fog, Praetor." The guards then returned to their posts. The Praetor practically growled as he moved towards the Altar of the Sun.

"That fool simply thinks he has the better of us. Memnarch will not like this. He has found the legendary Hum. But we have some insurance." The corrupted one reached into his robes and pulled out a small jar. He opened the lid and a mess of sizzling snapping wires poured our like snakes and began repairing the Altar. Once it was finished he touched the Altar and smiled. He turned to the guards once more. "When the fog clears, find the Rebel. Bring him to me alive. Memnarch will want to speak to him."


	2. The Other

NOTE:_Here I am introducing everyone to the "antagonist" of sorts. Have fun. Warning: There is a bit of torture... not that graphic, though._

**The Other**

The light filtered green through the high treetops. The earth toned colors shifted vibrantly as a great wind took those fragile arms and shook them. Then everything grew still. A sound could be heard in the distance: the sound of metal pinging against metal. The trees breathed a sigh, a sigh of despair. The tallest oak groaned as it shifted once more in the wind but was caught short when a short pair of teeth lodged themselves into the root structure. A great mist surrounded the oak and as its hands reached out for the last time towards the sun, the bark glazed over and became a gleaming sheet of silver metal. One by one each tree was bitten by the land-shaper. One by one each tree succumbed to the call.

The elder elf sat down upon an enlarged toadstool. A rather comfortable seat, it was triggered to shoot off the best smelling spores every sunturn. Vanadoros drummed his fingers slowly on his desk as he looked at the map. The Praetor had spared no time in sending out hunting parties. He didn't want to, but he might have to resort to killing his own people. Vanadoros sighed and sat back against the tent's wall.

"Father!" he heard his daughter call out and the tent flap opened to reveal her. She was rather tall for an elf, just under five feet tall. She had a nice figure and always wore very little clothing (and was always scolded about that). "Father, the well-wishers and the clerics are beginning to get restless. They want to know what we are waiting on."

In the distance a long howl pierced the night. The torches themselves shivered and Vanadoros grimaced. He looked to his daughter and with all the calmness he could manage, told Ny'mfail.

"That is what we were waiting for, my dear." He moved a small figurine on the map to stand right next to the army of approaching elves. The figurine was tall, lanky, and missing many patches of skin. A zombie.

Ein Frostburne stood on top of a tall rock watching the great damage that his army was doing. The mass of crawling, creeping creatures were making swift work of the small elvish hunting party. Ein turned around to his personal necromancer. The lithe sorcereress almost cackled at she poked at the thought prison encasing the elvish warrior. The necromancer looked at the being's soul and yelled out.

"Tell us who has sent you." She hissed out.

"Never, you evil, undead skum!" The proud warrior lifted a hidden blade from her belt and attempted to slice open her own neck, but the blade simply passed through her. She yelled out again and began beating on the crystalline walls. "Let me out of here"

"I'm sorry. We can't quite do that, but we can help you. Tell us who sent you and your soul will be released from the suffering." The necromancer tapped on the base of the thought prison and wracking pains thread through the "body" of the warrior. She screamed out a high pitched wail of pain. The nim, finished with their snack, surrounded the thought prison cackling in delight at the torture of the poor soul.

"I'll never--AH! Tell you!" She spat on the crystalline wall and the pains shot through again in a wave of agony.

"You will suffer that pain for all eternity if you don't tell us so we can't relieve your soul." The necromancer smiled and touched the glass.

"I came from... the High-city Aeronesti...ARGH! Now stop the pain, please." The warrior had tears rolling down her face.

"I love it when they beg. Hah hah hah!" The necromancer waved her staff in front of the thought prison and then tapped on the base. The warrior's soul looked relieved at first, but then a different feeling came upon her. She began screaming as she shifted through the wall. The nim reached out and ran their razor-like claws through the misty soul. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she settled onto the ground. The new nim smiled and ripped out all of her hair and began stroking the faces of the other nim. They all threw their heads back and cackled once more. Ein smiled.


	3. The Heroine

_NOTE: Okay... So I've realized I've begun to get a bit silly with the titles... them being all stupid and all. I'm sure it'll get better. This one doesn't have much of anything in it. It introduces a new character and introduces the villain a little better._

**The Heroine**

Atop the high towers of Quer'Tana, a lone figure stood on her balcony on the highest level. The Mistress of Avians was beginning to notice changes in the climate of the world. The forests of Wirewood were beginning to stop growing. The great seas were changing into liquid metals. The swamps were beginning to be more dangerous for the plane walkers. Celena Schezar turned her back upon the realm of the earth. After all, the sky was her domain.

She walked into her elaborate bedchamber and pulled back the gossamer curtain surrounding her bed. She sat down on the edge of her bed and crossed her legs at the knee. The slowly setting sun was beginning to change the light blue of her bedchamber into almost blood red colors. She ran her fingers absentmindedly along the trim of those gossamer curtains.

She turned her mind once more on the ever-quickening changes upon the earth and what kind of effect it would have on her sky-bound minions. She swept back her long auburn-colored hair and tapped a slender finger against her jaw. She stood up once more and walked back onto the balcony. The glow of fire caught her eye and she looked into the forests. That seemed to be where all the action was these days. She held her hand up with her palm facing outward. Her index and middle finger were pointing up. She began a slow chant, the spidery words were flowing from her mouth and crawling around her fingers. An orb of energy, azure in color, began to build up at the end of her fingers and from that energy a murder of crows poured forth and began flying towards the fire.

Her minions would relay the information to her soon enough. She let a small sigh pass her lips as she leaned against the railing and watched the dark cloud of her crows fly until they disappeared in the distance. While waiting for the flock to return, she calmly traced the grains in the stone. The aged railing was feeling a bit warm to the touch she thought. The setting sun should be causing the temperatures to drop. She shielded her eyes and looked around for the source of the heat. Her eyes met with a metallic beast resting on the opposite end of the railing. She gave the contraption a sideways glance and narrowed her eyes.

The beast was made of varying metal parts that seemed to be strung together by bolts of lightning. It reared up on the back set of it's six legs and it's wings, made of electricity, flared out and the beast lifted off of the railing. It raised it's mechanical head and let out a series of beeping noises. The crackling of electricity and the sound of metal scraping against metal filled the beautiful spell-caster's ears. Her eyes widened as another dozen of the metal wasps flew into her room and began charring all of her precious linens with small lightning firing devices attached to their tails.

She howled and decided it would be best to no longer be in the room with the mechanical beasts and she made a running leap off the balcony. While free-falling she was pleased to see that her murder decided to make their reappearance. Each crow swooped down and grabbed onto a piece of Celena's clothing and was able to slow her descent until she reached the soft ground below.

While listening to the report from her crows and fuming about the loss of her fine linens, the mechanical wasps brought in the land-shapers to begin arranging the throne for their master. The land-shapers bit into the tower and little-by-little the tower began to mechanize. The stone transformed into steel and the various magical devices became useless pieces of metallic junk. Her bedchamber was rearranged so that the huge, hulking body of Memnarch would fit into the small room.

The sound of sizzling and cracking was heard in the silence of the room and a rip was torn in the air in the middle of the room. The metallic body of the being that was once a wizard stepped through the rip and the air soon mended itself after his dispersal. He looked around the room and silently agreed with the settings. His huge spider-like mechanical legs carried him to the edge of the balcony where he surveyed what he would claim to be his new kingdom. The world as these poor people knew it would soon dissolve and become a world of cold, hard steel. Like his home world, Memnarch would change this small clump of earth into another throne of metal. His cold calculating eyes narrowed and his head rolled back as he let out a maniacal laugh that echoed over the land.

Celena suddenly felt a chill descend upon her. Based on what her crows told her, a small resistance, comprised of rebellious band of elves and plague of nim, had begun to fight against the powers that be. She was currently en route to the main camp of this resistance and was intent on offering her services. Mounted on the back of her prized pegasus she could turn around and still see her tower, and on the balcony of the highest level of the tower she saw one figure. The iron spider known as Memnarch met her eyes and Celena could not stop herself from fainting.


End file.
